


Spent the Night, Got Me High

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Tally Craven, F/F, Mentions of Gerit Buttonwood/Tally Craven, Pining, S1E4: Hail Beltane, either way works, you could also say Tally is a lesbian dealing with comphet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Tally won’t admit it, not fully, not in the way that she’ll divulge that she’s all glowy inside and out because of Gerit, but a lot of her happiness has to do with her friends. Especially her friend to her left, her unit partner, her companion, her witch.Abigail.
Relationships: Abigail Bellweather/Tally Craven
Comments: 36
Kudos: 55





	Spent the Night, Got Me High

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song "Feelings" by Hayley Kiyoko.

Tally is giddy, more so than usual. It’s because she had sex with Gerit, of course, and the mark decorating the stretch of skin behind her ear is now shiny, glittering in the warm summer light, so much so that Raelle’s practically being blinded by it. Tally’s not sorry. 

She feels good, so good, spinning and twirling her dress and her hair and her body until it feels like her soul is floating around inside of her skeleton along with the rest of her. She laughs out loud just because she can. She can be happy like this, fully free. She can be anything, here in Fort Salem, with life starting anew all around her.

It’s beautiful outside, trees blossoming into full, bright colors that make Tally’s chest feel tight in the best way possible. Just looking at them feels like a treat, like a blessing. They’re so beautiful. Everything seems so beautiful right now, even herself. 

The girls by her side are no exception to her musings, and though Tally won’t admit it, not fully, not in the way that she’ll divulge that she’s all glowy inside and out because of Gerit, but a lot of her happiness has to do with her friends. Especially her friend to her left, her unit partner, her companion, her witch. 

_ Abigail. _

Tally can’t take her eyes off her. Abigail is pretty, so pretty all the time. Tally feels like she’s always sort of staring, ultra aware of Abigail’s movements and especially the lucky moments when she finds her looking back at her. She’s perpetually intense, never ceases to make Tally stir in her bones and stand up taller, but she likes that about her. She likes her drive and her grit and the softness that’s hidden underneath too, the ways in which Abigail has already, slowly but surely, opened up to her. (As for opening up to Raelle, that’s a longer way away, but Tally believes it’ll happen in due time.) 

Today, there’s something special about Abigail, even more than usual. Tally finds her gaze on her fellow soldier lingering longer than before, and she drinks in the sight of her honey brown skin and strong, lean muscles like it’s the wine she’d sipped last night.

Abigail is radiating the same energy as Tally after a successful Beltane, fueled up and energized, and for a split second — just a brief moment — Tally wonders how Abigail felt last night. She’s just thinking, just being inquisitive and thorough as she always is, and she can’t fault herself when she considers what it would have been like if she stuck by Abigail’s side even after the Reel led her to Gerit, or at least checked in to see if Abigail was happy with who she matched with. 

She knows that she is , if her beaming smile is any indication,  but Tally’s anything if not imaginative. Curious and indulgent, she can’t help but conjure up a vision of Abigail looking at her in the moon-bright dusk, maybe in the same way she looked at her two boys as they laid underneath the bend of an oak tree, ready to serve her. Even if only due to the energy in the air, the oversensitive and intoxicating feeling of skin on skin making her eager for one more, Tally thinks Abigail would have had that same glimmer in her eye if Tally had dared to walk over, offer herself. Tally thinks Abigail would have liked her to, and Tally thinks she would have taken whatever she could have gotten from her, thinks she still would right now, even as the haze of Beltane fades off in the humid breeze.

Tally’s belly is still alive with fluttery feelings, mainly born out of Gerit’s sweetness and chivalry. She doesn’t imagine they’ll go away anytime soon ,  but Tally’s only human —  well, only witch — and  it’s hard not to be a little caught up in pretty people. If she’s honest, she thinks Abigail is the prettiest one of them all. 

The thing is, Abigail just walks and talks and  _ exists _ like she knows how good she looks, how good she is at being a soldier and a comrade and just a person. She makes everything look so easy. 

Besides, she’s gorgeous. Tally doesn’t even have the vocabulary to adequately describe it, even if just in her own mind. Abigail dons the same pinkish-orange dress that she wore last night, the fabric hugging her body just right like all of her clothes seem to do. (Tally would bet money that she’s never accidentally shrunken a shirt in the wash or mixed colors together amidst too much detergent like Tally has far too many times.) 

Perfectly parallel thick strips of fabric line up and across Abigail’s even shoulders, and not even the hem of her outfit is the slightest bit wrinkled after the evening’s adventures. The same necklace she always wears, silver and expensive looking, sits atop her collarbones, and Tally finally moves, can’t help herself when Abigail makes a joke about Raelle feeding the “I just had sex” monster (none other than Miss Craven herself). Tally laughs and  dares to pull Abigail in with a swoop of her arm, and though she’s already been close to her, arm and hips bumping as they head down the path, this is different. In the process of a slanted, sideways hug, Tally brushes the side of her hand brush against that part of Abigail she was just musing over; just for a second, she feels the smoothness of the skin above Abigail’s breasts, the plateau of her chest, a place that she’s never touched. It’s different from touching Abigail’s forearms, wrists, even holding her hands or balancing her hips like she does too often when wrapping bandages or icing bruises.

Here, Tally just lets herself feel, lets herself want. Isn’t that what Beltane is all about, anyway?

Abigail doesn’t mind, or maybe doesn’t even think anything of it. Tally’s a touchy person, uber-friendly and always eager to be there with Abigail and Raelle in any way she can. Maybe she just thinks Tally’s oozing out her joy and newly embraced sexuality onto everyone around her, and in a way she is. She talks about a wedding, invites Tally and Raelle, and though Tally jumps to invite Gerit, just out of habit, she isn’t that disappointed when Abigail says he can’t come. Besides, when Raelle goes off to see Scylla and Tally finds herself alone with Abigail, her head ends up in the crook of her neck and Abigail leans into her, tipping back to let her in closer. Tally breathes in the way she smells, like shampoo and sweet perfume and flowers, and another exhilarated shiver courses through her, subtle but still there. She thinks Abigail feels it, doesn’t care if she does; in fact, she sort of hopes she does. And when Abigail leads Tally away to the quad, keeping her body pressed flush to her side and saying something more about the wedding, Tally finds that Gerit is the last person she’s thinking about. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about Motherland, either in the comments or at my tumblr under the same username, sweeterthankarma! Raelle and Scylla are cool and all, but honestly my heart belongs to Tally and Abigail and other rare pair ships on the show. Do you ship them too? Let me know!


End file.
